long live this wild, wild love of ours
by chalantness
Summary: Drabble #3 - Deputy Parrish/Lydia - She looks tired, and he wishes there was somewhere here she could lie down, but at the same time, he just knows she wouldn't get any real kind of rest even if she was able to fall asleep.
1. drabble 1

**Drabble:** Scott/Kira  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~900  
**Prompts:** "Are you my boyfriend?" – Sentence Blocks from WriteWorld + gifset (see on AO3 version)

... ...

Her heart is still beating crazily in her chest even though those… those _creatures _ran off at least fifteen minutes ago, and she's still feeling totally overwhelmed enough right now, her breaths all uneven and her eyes a little watery.

_Gosh_, she's so pathetic, isn't she?

Wrapping her arms around herself, she looks over her shoulder at the others again, as if they've suddenly moved in the last five minutes. Malia's still on the ground, her injured leg stretched out and Stiles and Scott kneeling on either side of her, and Derek and Lydia are sort of leaning against the wall for support, as if their legs don't want to or simply can't hold them up on their own for right now. All things considered, Derek seems fine, but Kira can hear his heavy breaths and accelerated heart rate and knows that he's just as shaken up as the rest of them. Lydia has both of her hands closed around one of his, for some reason, knuckles white from her grip, and Derek either just doesn't notice or doesn't really mind it.

Scott looks up to meet her eyes and she manages a small smile, hugging herself tighter as another breeze passes.

He seems totally spooked.

Not that she can blame him, of course. Those skeletal _things_ were terrifying to just look at, let alone fight against, and if something that's supposedly after them was able to knock them down so easily, how are they going to handle this?

But it's still unsettling to see him like this, and maybe that seems silly, but she doesn't care. She _hates_ seeing him so shaken up.

He gives a squeeze to Malia's arm, waiting for her small nod of reassurance before standing up and walking over to Kira. "Hi," she says lamely, but then he sets a hand on her arm above her elbow and rubs his thumb into her skin, echoing the word in return. "I kind of wish I brought a warmer jacket," she adds, just to say _something_.

Scott chuckles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"I wish I had one to offer you." She feels her cheeks warm. It's silly, really, that after everything that's happened, she can still _blush_ like a little girl. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm… I feel fine." It's mostly true. Yeah, her side is a little sore – there must be a few bruises on her body, maybe a scratch or two from when those bony claws had hit her – but that's hardly anything to be worried about, especially when Malia is the one with the gash in her leg and Derek has been through _so much_. Honestly, she feels pathetic because she couldn't do more, and even when she came to help Scott and Malia, those creatures knocked her down so easily. "I'm fine," she repeats, because he doesn't seem reassured.

"Okay," he breathes, squeezing her arm a little tighter. It would feel nicer if it wasn't so alarming. "I'm just glad you're alive."

She blinks, surprised. "What?"

"When they hurt you earlier, I just… There was this second where I thought…"

"That I might be…" She can't bring herself to say the word.

He nods, knowing what she's trying to say, and she closes her eyes, remembering the way he'd screamed out her name. It makes sense, why he's so shaken up. Yes, what they went through tonight was terrifying, but she could tell it was _more_ than just that and now she knows why.

"Come here," he murmurs, pulling her against him, and she wraps her arms around him and presses her head against his shoulder.

He rubs his hand over her back a few times, slow and gentle, and after a moment, she pulls her head back and meets his eyes. "I'm sorry about Mexico. About hurting you," she tells him, and before he can interrupt, she adds, "I know I had no choice, and that you said it was okay and that we were protecting Lydia, but I just need to apologize."

He nods a bit like he understands this and she feels herself smile. "You know, now that you mention Mexico…"

"What about it?" she asks when he doesn't say anything else.

He slides his hand up her arm gently, lifting it off of her shoulder to grasp her chin between his fingers, and her eyelids flutter closed as he presses his lips against hers. Her blood is thrumming and her skin is tingling and she'd be embarrassed at how fast her heart is beating because she knows Scott can hear it, probably even feel it with how they're pressed so closely together, but he makes this little noise of contentment and it's like her senses are suddenly awake, because she can hear that Scott's heart is beating just as quickly as hers.

He pulls away and she blinks her eyes open, smiling. She can hear Lydia saying something, but the girl's voice is distant to Kira right now.

When she finds her voice again, she says, "Not that I'm complaining, but what did that have to do with Mexico?"

He chuckles. "Something Braeden asked me when we went to find Derek," he explains, pushing his fingers through her hair. "She asked why I didn't kiss you before we left, and if I'd regret not doing it if I never saw you again. And I don't want to regret not being with you."

"Me neither," she says, meaning it. "So, does this mean… Are you my boyfriend?"

"I'm whatever you want me to be."

"Good answer," she laughs, and he brings their lips together again. She could definitely get used to this.


	2. drabble 2

**Drabble:** Deputy Parrish/Lydia  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,000

**A/N: **Takes place during season four, episode three, "Muted"

... ...

She doesn't realize that she's still shaking until Deputy Parrish sets his jacket over her shoulders, giving her this almost understanding look when she blinks up at him in surprise before walking over to someone that's called his name.

Her shivering has nothing to do with how cold it was when they were in the basement. She has a feeling Deputy Parrish knows this.

She slides her arms through the sleeves as she glances around. A few more officers have arrived including the Sheriff, who gave her this tight smile as soon as he got out of his car and saw her standing with Deputy Parrish on the front lawn, but she hasn't been able to talk to him yet. No doubt he'll have a lot of questions that she won't have any answers to but he'll probably ask her, anyway. That's probably because, as much as people hate _not _knowing something, it's still strangely comforting to know someone else is as in the dark as you.

Her phone keeps vibrating in the pocket of her skirt and it could very well be Stiles or Scott worrying about her, or maybe trying to tell her about something else – because of course they can't ever have just one threat to deal with at a time – but she doubts she could type out a coherent reply with her hands still trembling, so she ignores them.

A hand touches her shoulder and she jumps, very nearly screams. She _hates_ feeling this shaken up.

"Hey," the Sheriff greets, rubbing his hand over her arm, and she lets out a breath. "I just got a look downstairs. Are you…" He trails off.

It seems silly to ask if she's _okay_ after what she saw.

"Well, there's a chance those images may not have emotionally scarred me more than I already am, so I think I'm holding up alright," she says, and, despite everything, Sheriff lets out a laugh.

"At least you weren't alone this time," he points, squeezing her shoulder.

At this, she looks across the lawn where Deputy Parrish is talking to an older officer on the front steps. Well, the Sheriff's true. All of the bodies she's found up until now, she was the first one to lay eyes on them, even if someone else happened to be with her at the time.

Deputy Parrish was not only beside her this time, but he was the one to actually unzip that first body bag, and that…

Well, it didn't make her any less horrified, but she did feel a little less helpless, maybe even feel a little less insane in her own head.

That's all she could really ask for.

Deputy Parrish glances away from the other officer, looking around the yard until his eyes meet hers again, and she notices his expression change just a little bit. Usually she's fairly good at reading people because of their body language and the fact that she can't even guess when this man might be feeling either means she's more distracted than she should be or more exhausted, and both are just as frustrating to consider. It's very obvious that Beacon Hills is only drawing in more and more threats, and yes, giving herself a break when things were still calm was totally understandable and much needed, but she can't afford to have any less control over her powers than she's managed to scrape together by herself.

Her intuition, as vague as it is, can save lives if she only knew how. She _needs_ to know how.

Deputy Parrish is still holding her gaze. She remembers how he looked at her when he showed up at the house almost seconds after she did – first startled, obviously, but then a little alert, but mostly… mostly _curious_, as if, knowing her reputation, he was anticipating something, preparing for what else was probably waiting for them.

"Lydia," the Sheriff says, grabbing her attention again. "I need to handle a few things here and then head back to the station. Should I have someone give you a ride home?"

"I'll manage," she replies. "I ended up walking here and I can walk back."

"Not in those shoes, you can't." She lets out a laugh, closing her eyes. "Parrish," he calls out. "Can you give Miss Martin a ride?"

Deputy Parrish nods, making his way over to them again, and the Sheriff gives her shoulder another squeeze and waits for her to nod in reassurance before walking away. She turns back to Deputy Parrish, pushing his jacket off of her shoulder so she can hand it back to him, but he just tugs it back on and gestures to the car. He holds open the passenger door for her, and it's kind of crazy that this is hardly the first time she's sat in the front of a police car before. Sure, it's better than sitting in the back seat, but it's still not exactly relaxing.

She sinks against the leather, eyelids feeling heavy.

"So, where am I taking you?" Deputy Parrish asks as he pulls onto the road.

She shrugs, honestly unsure. She should probably lie down, but she doesn't feel like going home right now. She doubts lacrosse tryouts would still be going on, so it's not like she can meet up with the others there, but maybe she can stay at Kira's for a bit. The Yukimuras love her.

Deputy Parrish chuckles a little, turning down the volume of the police channel. "That's fine. You can make up your mind at Starbucks."

She tilts her head at him. "You need a snack break?"

"I could go for something," he admits. "But I'm more concerned with getting you something warm. You still look cold."

"That's not because of the temperature," she mumbles under her breath. If he actually heard her, he doesn't acknowledge it. "I don't have my wallet on me, so if you insist on me getting something to drink, you'll have to pay for it." He shrugs. She arches an eyebrow. "Won't people talk about a twenty year old deputy treating a minor while he's on duty?"

"I'm twenty four." He sounds amused. "And people can say whatever they want. I'm just buying you a cup of coffee, maybe a muffin if you want one."

"I don't think I can stomach any food right now," she admits. "Thank you, though."

He smiles like he knows she means it.


	3. drabble 3

**Drabble:** Deputy Parrish/Lydia  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** ~1,300  
**Prompt:** gif (see on AO3 version)

**A/N:** Because I just want to hold my poor baby and never let her go. Or, better yet, _Jordan Parrish_ should hold his poor banshee and never let her go.

Takes place after season four, episode 6, "Orphaned"

... ...

She's standing in the Sheriff's office when he walks back into the station, her arms crossed and this distant – no, _hollow _look in her eyes as the Sheriff and his son are behind her at the Sheriff's desk, having a hushed discussion. For a moment, he thinks of the day he found her at the Walcott House, remembers the way she hugged herself tightly just like this and shivered in the cold of the basement where they'd discovered the bodies, and despite how admittedly traumatizing the sight had been, he can tell that what she's feeling now?

It must be worse.

"Lydia," he says, walking over to her. She blinks a few times but doesn't respond, doesn't even seem to register that he's standing next to her. "Lydia," he tries again, touching her arm lightly, and this time she sucks in a gasp as her eyes snap onto him, wide and terrified.

The Sheriff and Stiles turn to look at them, slightly startled, and her eyelids flutter closed as she lets out a shaky breath.

"Come here," he murmurs, gently tugging her aside so he can close the door to the Sheriff's office.

And for a moment, he just stands next to her, watching. Her eyes are still closed but she doesn't look calm or at peace at all. She looks _tired_, and he wishes there was somewhere here she could lie down, but at the same time, he just knows she wouldn't get any real kind of rest even if she was able to fall asleep. He takes her hand and she opens her eyes to look at him with this slightly confused but mostly blank expression. He's only been around Lydia a few times, but if it's one thing he's noticed it's that her emotions are in her eyes, even when she's trying not to show it. Or maybe he's just good at reading her. The fact that he can't right now is frustrating. He doesn't know where to begin to try and comfort her.

"Should I give you a ride home?"

She shakes her head, voice quiet and a little hoarse when she finally speaks to him. "I rode with Stiles. He'll drop me off at home later."

"It's late, Lydia," he reminds. He's not trying to be patronizing, he's just concerned. "You should try and get some sleep. It's still a school night, after all."

This makes her flinch, eyes narrowing slightly, and for a moment, he thinks she's mad at him. Then she breathes, "_School_," out on this empty laugh, closing her eyes again and tipping her head back, her curls falling over her shoulder. "That's the last thing I need to be thinking about. Trying to go on normally won't change anything. I've tried."

"Won't change what?" he asks, though, he has a strong feeling he knows the answer.

She must think this, too, because she whispers, "You know what," and tilts her head to face him, opening her eyes.

She's crying.

It's inappropriate in so many ways, but his very first thought is that she looks really pretty like this, cheeks slightly flushed and eyelashes dotted with tears. Then he feels immediately so, _so_ selfish for thinking so, considering what she must be feeling right now to be crying in the first place.

"You shouldn't punish yourself for that, Lydia," he tells her. She looks away, pressing her lips together. "Anything could've set Meredith over the edge."

"And that just happened to be me."

"Lydia—"

"Even if it wasn't _because_ of me, I still helped the process along, didn't I? And don't…" She shakes her head, meeting his eyes and narrowing them at him again. "Don't try to comfort me by disagreeing, because we both know it's true." He just looks at her, not responding. "I'm supposed to be getting _better_ at this, not worse!"

Her face crumples and she almost stomps her foot, frustrated. He's not sure what that means, but he knows better than to ask.

She glances around, as if to check if anyone else is paying attention, and then brings a shaking hand up to wipe at her tears. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I, Parrish?"

"No," he replies quickly. "Lydia, you're not a horrible person."

She just shakes her head, murmuring to herself as if he'd never spoken. "I'm a weak, ugly, _monstrous_ little—"

"Stop!" he snaps, squeezing her hand a little, which, up until this moment, he'd forgotten he'd still been holding onto. She looks at him, startled. "I may not know you very well, but I think I know you enough by now to know that _this_ isn't like you. Punishing yourself isn't going to help and you know it, so don't do it." She blinks a few times, as if unsure of how she wants to react, and he exhales. "Sorry, I didn't… I don't want to yell at you. But you are going out of your way to try and save everyone, and Lydia, that's not what horrible people do."

She looks away. "But you said so yourself, you don't know me very well. I _have_ the ability to find everything out, to warn everyone, to _help _them. Meredith knows—_knew_. She knew and I didn't, and what if… what if that means part of me doesn't _want_ to figure it out?"

She's shaking her head, eyes shut tightly, breathing picking up, and he knows she's spiraling closer to a breakdown of her own.

He brings his free hand up, setting it on her arm just above her elbow. "Lydia," he says softly. "I don't know what you're trying to say, but I _do_ know something else about you and that's because anyone that's ever watched you can tell this, so just listen to me, alright?" He squeezes her arm gently. "You're strong. You're beautiful. You're _good_."

"No, I'm not," she whispers.

"Hey," he says, making her blink her eyes open to look at him. "I keep an open mind, remember? I know there's something special about you, Lydia, and if that means you're really some kind of monster, then so what? Not all monsters do monstrous things."

She stares at him for a moment, clearly not expecting him to have said that, and then, despite everything, she lets out a shaky laugh. It's a _laugh_, too, not just those breathy, empty laughs she'd given him just a minute ago, and he's a little confused as to why, but mostly? He's just happy to hear it. "You don't know how ironic everything you just said is, Parrish," she tells him, and no, that doesn't really clear anything up. He has his suspicions, though, which she kind of brought into the light a bit more, but that's a discussion for another day.

"I have a first name," he points out, smiling slightly as she blinks up at him. "And you already know what it is, might I add."

Her eyes flick over him, head tilting, and okay, she's kind of _beautiful_ like this, too, tears on her eyelashes and a small grin on her face.

"Jordan," she says slowly, as if testing it out. He smiles a little wider. She seems to have calmed down and he's glad. "That's the name of at least seven boys in the junior class of Beacon Hills High alone. And it doesn't seem right to associate you with every other teenage boy."

"True," he agrees. "I'm not like any other teenage boy you've met."

She shakes her head. "No, you're not." She squeezes their joined hands, eyelashes fluttering. "You're not like anyone I've ever met."

He grins, glancing down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "Does this mean you'll let me drive you home?"

Her eyes sparkle, and he's decided that her laugh? It's definitely his favorite sound.


End file.
